HowTheLightGetsIn

Ten days of big ideas in Hay-on-Wye.

The New Statesman is delighted to be a media partner for this year's HowTheLightGetsIn festival in Hay-on-Wye. HTLGI is, in the organisers' description, "the world's largest philosophy and music festival". This year's feast of big ideas in the Welsh borders begins on Thursday 31 May and runs until Sunday 10 June.

Hilary Lawson, the festival director, says:

I little imagined five years ago when we held our first debate in a converted Methodist chapel in Hay-on-Wye that HowTheLightGetsIn would become the largest philosophy and music festival in the world. Five years on, we're back with a full programme of over 450 events across ten days and expecting over 35,000 visitors. The intention was always to take philosophy out of the academy and into people's lives, to encourage real dialogue about issues that matter and to invite leading thinkers with new ideas to share, rather than celebrities looking to plug their latest book. It's great to see this in action on the festival site and to watch our digital audience grow via iai.tv, where we post all of our debates, solo talks and live performances.

The range of speakers is too vast to summarise here, but highlights include: Jim Al-Khalili on chaos theory; Mary Midgley and Ruth Padel on poetic theories; David Aaronovitch and David Blunkett on the ends of ideals; James Lovelock on freedom of scientific speech; Raymond Tallis on music and neuroscience; Galen Strawson on the mind; Barry C Smith's philosophical wine-tasting; Steven Pinker on the decline of violence; and Peter Singer on humans and animals.

On Friday 1 June, New Statesman culture editor Jonathan Derbyshire will chair a session entitled "Uncharted Territory: Progress for a new era", with Giles Fraser, Hilary Rose, Bjorn Lomborg and Ziauddin Sardar. The following day, at 12pm, Jonathan will debate the ramifications of Stephen Hawking's recent declaration that philosophy is dead with Lewis Wolpert and Steve Fuller. In the afternoon, he will chair a debate on the "rationality of climate change" with Nigel Lawson, Bjorn Lomborg, Polly Higgins and Barry C Smith.

To see the full programme and to book tickets, click here.

Performers on the streets of Hay-on-Wye (Photo: Getty Images)
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Listening to recordings from the Antarctic, I felt I could hear the earth groan

The Science Hour on the BBC World Service.

A weekend of listening to the radio news ­revealed nothing but sounds of the sucker-punched going through their pockets in a panic and repeating, “I thought you had the keys.” So, never was talk of “a perfectly flat area of just whiteness” more alluring. The oldest Antarctic ice yet recorded was recently found. “For millions of years,” the presenter Roland Pease assured listeners  (25 June, 9am), “snow has been falling, snow on snow, all the while trapping bubbles of air and other chemical traces of climate . . . insights into the ice ages and warm periods of the past.” How was this ice located? “The finding part is pretty easy – you just go there and start shovelling, and ice comes up,” the lead geologist, Jaakko Putkonen, said.

There it was, buried under a layer of dirt “in barren wastelands” high in the middle of Antarctica. An “incredibly mountainous and remote and . . . quite hideous region, really”, Pease said, though it was sounding pretty good to me. The world dissolved into a single, depthless tone. Then Pease mentioned the surprising fizzing of this ancient ice – trapped air bubbles whooshing as they melt. Which is perhaps the thing you least expect about ice regions and ice caps and glaciers: the cacophony. Thuds and moans. Air that folds and refolds like the waving of gigantic flags. Iced water sleeping-dragonishly slurping and turning.

On Friday Greenpeace posted a video of the pianist Ludovico Einaudi giving a haunting performance on a floating platform to mark an imminent meeting of the OSPAR Commission, as it decided on a proposal to safeguard 10 per cent of the Arctic Ocean. Einaudi looked occasionally stunned by the groaning around him. A passing glacier popped and boomed like the armies of Mordor, ice calving from its side, causing mini-tsunamis. When last year I spent some time at the remote Eqi Glacier in Greenland, close to the ice cap, local people certainly spoke of the ice as if it were living: “It’s quiet today,” delivered as though gazing at the fractious contents of a Moses basket.

“This huge cake of ice, basically flat”, Putkonen said, perhaps longing for a moment of deep-space silence, for peaceful detachment. He wasn’t the only one being forced to reappraise a landscape very differently.

Antonia Quirke is an author and journalist. She is a presenter on The Film Programme and Pick of the Week (Radio 4) and Film 2015 and The One Show (BBC 1). She writes a column on radio for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 30 June 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Brexit lies